


Oh it’s Another Rainy Day (Another Excuse for Me to Fuck All Day)

by Helena_Hathaway



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Ambiguous Age, Anal Sex, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Funny, Games, Humor, M/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Shameless Smut, Smut, Top!Frank, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 16:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1395223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helena_Hathaway/pseuds/Helena_Hathaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Established Frerard One-shot. Basically it’s a fluffy and semi-humorous smut. Gerard gets lonely on a rainy day over spring break so he walks over to Frank’s house for a dirty game of truth or dare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh it’s Another Rainy Day (Another Excuse for Me to Fuck All Day)

**Author's Note:**

> I butchered that poor Plain White T’s lyric for this title. My apologies to Tom for that. As you might be able to tell this is a departure from my previous work as it is predominately better written, as well as in first person. Hope you like it.

The first day of Spring Break is always kind of exciting. You do absolutely nothing except sleep in until noon and binge on Netflix, but you have every reason not to do anything. You have no obligation to do shit.

The second day is kind of the first day of boredom, though you never know why because it’s only been two days. You do even less with your time on this day. The third day is when things differentiate the most. You might be heading out of town or working on a project somewhere around the house, because your mom keeps yelling at you for not cleaning your room.

The greatest thing about doing nothing is that you don’t have the pressure to finish something.

There’s some time in your teenage years when you have a sort of epiphany, but you never realize it happens, because you’re not paying attention. What I mean to say is that there’s always that time when you realize that your idea of a good day has changed completely from when you were a child. 

A little kid is only ever happy when they’re doing something. Going to the park is the greatest thing in the world, or playing a massive game of Uno, or maybe even a trip to the zoo. Little kids just like doing things, because they’re only ever entertained when they’re doing _something_.

Maybe it’s a puberty thing, or maybe it’s just a teenage cynicism thing, but when you’re a teenager, the greatest thing in the world is nothing. Nothing is the best thing in the world. Absolutely nothing with a side of Wheat Thins and season one of Death Note. 

Have you ever gone up to an adult and asked them if they had a good weekend? Well, if the answer is yes than what they did is nothing. If the answer is no, than they probably had to exert energy and this is definitely not something sensible people like to do. People from the ages of twelve and older like doing nothing, and that is the greatest pastime.

Of course, what nothing doesn’t mean is that you lied on the floor staring at your finger for three hours while thinking about hash browns. Nothing can mean several things actually, which is a bit of an oxymoron, but as stated, teenage cynicism means that I really don’t give a flying fuck. Nothing can mean watching an entire season of a show in one sitting, or watching all three extended editions of Lord of the Rings. Nothing can mean that you scored a 30 or higher on Flappy Bird, and nothing can mean that you read a mystery novel. Maybe you finished up a video game, or played a few rounds of minesweeper, but what is important is that you did nothing productive with your time.

If ever you ask an adult or a teenager how there weekend was and they light up like a possessed Ferby, then there is a good chance that that person stood up on their feet a grand total of six times over two days.

Now it’s the fifth day of spring break, Wednesday, and I’m about to fall into coma because I am so bored! I love nothing but right now I might actually be willing to do something so that I’m not just sitting here.

There’s something nice about breaks in variety, but when you throw all these days at someone all at once, then there’s nothing for me to do with all this spare fucking time!

Stupid Gerard with his stupid face and his stupid stupidness. Why on earth did the sky decide to collapse during the one week where we have no responsibilities? I mean, yeah, I get we’re practically having a goddamn hurricane outside, but that doesn’t mean he’s allowed to plead ‘bad weather’ as a reason to not come over. My mom went to work, so he can put on his wellingtons and get over to this fucking house. Stupid Gerard.

Obviosuly not really. But, hey what do you expect? I’m bitter. Just let me complain, and don’t get your panties in a twist.

Why don’t I go over there, you ask? Well the answer is that I am eternally sick, and I’d probably catch the fucking plague if I walked outside. Don’t know why. If there is a virus in the state of New Jersey it will find me. I swear to god, the king of the germs must have it out for me. And then there’s Gerard with his functioning immune system. 

Fuck his immune system. 

Fuck him. 

Actually, that would be ideal.

I’m on hour three of my Gaiman-overindulging-Wednesday when my phone rings, and I have to get out of my bed to go get it.

I don’t really want to talk to anyone, or get out of bed. I like staying all warm and cozy while the contents of the Atlantic Ocean is pouring from the sky. The liquid contents, I should specify, because I highly doubt a swordfish is going to come hurtling towards earth.

I grab my phone, and look at the Caller ID. It’s stupid Gerard with his stupidly attractive face, so I pick up and greet him with a rather sullen hello.

“Frank!” Gerard’s voice says on the other end, although there’s a lot of interference so he’s hard to hear. It sounds like the copious thumping of rigid plastic.

“What is that noise? Are you being shot at or something?”

“It’s raining dumbass, didn’t you look out the window?”

“Yeah, but it’s just so loud,” I answer, “why is it so loud?”

“Just look out the window, Frankie. It’s raining really hard.”

“No I know.”

“Well then look out the window because it’s quite relaxing,” Gerard replies.

“I believe you, Gee. It’s raining.”

“Look out the fucking window or I’ll throw a potted plant at you,” he says, and I sigh to look out my bedroom window. There’s a bastard with a black umbrella standing in the muddy garden who I would bet everything I own is Gerard.

“Please tell me that’s you out there and this isn’t a scene from Silent Hill.”

“Course it’s me! Now let me in, I’m cold,” He complains, and I sigh. I change out of my pajama pants quickly because there is nothing sexy about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I quickly fix my hair, because I care way too much, and then walk down the stairs. I’m not going to admit it to him, but I’m super happy he’s here. I love that son of bitch more than is probably healthy.

I pull the door open to see a very cold looking Gerard huddling under an umbrella and I step back to let him in. He closes the umbrella before walking in, and then shivers slightly making excess drops flutter off of him.

“What are you doing here?”

He looks offended by my question but answers, “Hold up, am I not allowed to visit my boyfriend while it’s raining? Jeez Frank, I was just trying to be romantic.”

“I appreciate it, trust me, and I’ll hug you once you take your jacket off, because you’re all wet,” I say, evaluating him. His boots are long and overlap the bottoms of his pants so that his feet are probably pretty dry, but his coat is wet and dripping moderately onto the cold floor of the foyer. He pulls off the soggy coat, and then steps out of his boots before attacking me into the wall with a sloppy and not very romantic kiss.

“You’re like a dog, get off me,” I say giggling, while trying to push him off of me. He laughs and presses his nose to mine, before stepping back.

“Come now, be polite Frank! I’m your guest.”

“No you’re not, you’re annoying,” I point out, “but what do you want to do? What’s so important that you had to risk being swept away by the wind? Movie? Video games? A quest for the holy grail?”

“Let’s go to your room,” He says, and he grabs my arm and pulls me up the stairs without a proper response.

We enter my room which he’s been in several times before. I deflowered him on that very bed in the corner, and vice versa. He sits down on the floor with his back against my dresser, so I sit across from him, and lean against my bed.

“I actually had an idea and that’s why I came over,” He says.

“You came over while it’s torrentially pouring because you had an idea?” I sum up looking at him like he’s a complete loon, because he generally is.

He nods and ruffles his hand through his hair to mess it up a little more. The black locks fall over his ears and hide his eyes precariously. He looks disheveled as always, and his skin is the color of sea foam, but he’s still beautiful.

“I want to play truth or dare,” He says purposefully.

That’s the second to last thing I expected him to say, right after ‘I want to set fire to Anne Hathaway.’

“Why do you... what?”

“Well I want to ask you a bunch of inappropriate things of course,” He says as if it’s obvious, which come to think of it, it is.

I look at him with what I hope to be a judgmental stare, “you don’t have to make a game of it to get me do to most things with you, Gee.”

“True, but it’s more fun this way. Why don’t you want to play truth or dare?”

“Because I’m not an eleven year old girl hoping to get her first kiss, that’s why,” I respond.

“Oh come on, you’re not pretty enough to ever get dared to kiss anyone.”

“Wow thanks. You’re a ray of fucking sunshine, with beautiful words of sincerity.”

“It was sincere it just wasn’t all that polite,” Gerard answers.

“Screw you,” I say, scolding.

“Oh come on Frankie, you know you want to kiss me, just come here,” He says winking.

“If you weren’t so cute I swear I would punch you in the nose,” I say.

“Pweeeeease?”

“I thought I wasn’t cute enough to get kissed,” I answer stubbornly, and I’m not all that moved by Gerard’s puppy dog eyes.

“I said you weren’t pretty enough, I never said you weren’t handsome enough.”

“What if I want to be pretty as well?”

“Fine then. You can be a fucking princess, just stick your tongue down my throat.”

“You’re so needy,” I mutter before obliging to Gerard’s request.

“Truth or dare time?”

I roll my eyes at him, and return to my seat against the bed, not all that fond of having to pull away, “why are you so determined to get me to play it?”

“I told you! It’s because I want to ask you a bunch of dirty questions,” Gerard repeats. 

“Ugh, fine but I reserve the right to say ‘hell naw’ to anything you tell me to say or do,” I state, not wanting him to get too carried away.

“You have no such right. And please never say that ever again.”

I laugh at his response and then allow him to ask me the age old question that every pubescent teenager dreams and dreads: “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“What are you thinking right now?” He asks.

I don’t have to think too hard for that question, and this game will be a lot easier if he keeps giving me questions like that, “I’m thinking that I don’t want to play truth or dare.”

“Wow, you’re deep.”

I snicker, “very true babe. You would know.” 

Gerard makes a face and I only laugh further at it.

“Dare,” he says before I can ask the question.

“Dare you to let me give you a hickey?” I’m not sure why I phrased that in the form of a question, but it’s too late to say it any other way.

“Only if you kiss me first,” he says, but I’m perfectly okay with his guidelines so I accept them eagerly. A few minutes later Gerard has a vague mark on the side of his neck and a PG-13 look in his eyes.

He gets all excited about having his own turn, like a little kid being handed candy floss. He’s so adorable when he gets enthusiastic about things so I can’t help but stare at him.

“I dare you to take your shirt off,” he says with a shit-eating grin.

“Oh so that’s how you’re going to play it?”

“No I’m going to keep my boyfriend fully clothed,” he replies sardonically, “What kind of guy do you take me for, Frankie?”

“Certainly not innocent,” I answer.

“Damn right, now take your shirt off.”

I frown and grab the bottom of the fabric before pulling it over my head while also saying, “You’re bossy.”

“Yeah, but you love me,” he says.

I think about his words and then say, “I think I’d like to retract that acknowledgment. I now think you’re just kind of annoying.”

Gerard mocks surprise and gives me a fake glare before responding, “No refunds.”

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe later, right now it’s your turn.”

“Fine, then what do you want?”

Gerard squints his eyes, “you have to _say_ it otherwise it’s no fun.”

“Fine. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

I sigh, “I don’t know, now I have to think of a question. Um what question do you least want to be asked?”

“That sounds like cheating to me,” he mopes, “but fine. I wouldn’t want to answer you if you asked me how many movies with Nicholas Cage I’ve watched.”

I look at him with the best narrowed eyebrows I can give and tease, “Really? Nic Cage?”

“It’s my turn and we’re not going to talk about it. Truth or dare?”

“Truth, I guess.”

He looks deep in concentration for a moment but then says, “If you had the body of a chick for a day what would you do?”

“A girl? I’d probably try to have sex with a really hot guy to be honest. Or lock the door and take care of things myself,” I say, a little too quickly. Gerard raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t question me further.

He then asks for a dare so I make him take his shirt off. Fair is fair, right? 

He stretches his feet out across the rug and kicks me whenever he gets the urge, but I don’t mind because he’s the weakest human being on the planet. He can barely open a can of coke let alone leave a bruise with his foot. He can leave bruises other places by other means though, and _that_ I am _all_ for.

“Who was the first person you ever jacked off to?”

I turn bright red at that, “what? Are you kidding? No way am I answering that!”

“Come on Frankie, I won’t tell anyone,” he says and he tries to give me those puppy dog eyes again but those only ever really work on me when he wants to get in my pants, because otherwise it’s just kind of void. Though to be perfectly honest most things he say would be acceptable terms for getting into my pants. I’m not a tease, but I’m certainly not a prude when it comes to Gerard.

“No, not going to happen,” I insist.

“Fine then you have to take off your pants. That’s the rule, remove an article of clothing if you refuse.”

“When did you make up that rule?”

He shrugs, “just now, but I think it seems like a good one.”

“God you’re irritating,” I say, but I stand up, and unbuckle my pants then pull them down and throw them at Gerard. I’m glad I decided against embarrassing boxers this morning, because he would get a kick out of those, like he did last time. Here’s a tip: don’t buy Star Wars boxers if you don’t want other people to see them. Not today though, they’re just black.

“I know I’m aggravating, but that’s what makes me as amazing as I am,” he smiles, and it’s contagious so I have no choice but to smile back at him, “I pick truth by the way.”

“Same question to you then, who’d _you_ first get off to?” I say

“Oh that’s an easy one. Christina Ricci.”

“You answered that way too fast for my liking. And hold up, that’s a girl!”

“Twelve year old me didn’t know that he liked dudes,” he says matter-of-factly, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“I know it isn’t, but it’s weird. How did you not know you were gay though, Gee? Blind people know that you’re gay. Deaf people know that you’re gay. Helen Fucking Keller would know that you’re gay.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t always this well-dressed and articulate,” Gerard answers, “truth or dare, Frankie?”

“Dare, because I don’t want you asking another question like that.”

“Wow it must be really embarrassing for you then,” he then dares me to make out with him which I do, gladly, but he keeps swiping my hand away when I try to touch him. All I really want to do is hold him, but I’m not even allowed to run my hands through his hair.

It comes to be my turn to ask him again, and he keeps choosing fucking truths so I don’t get the chance to get to touch him or anything.

“What color is your underwear right now?”

“What underwear?” He says with a devious look.

“You little fucker, you’re not wearing... I hate you,” I say, because that’s way sexier than it should be. The idea of Gerard is sexy enough to make a lesbian turn, but _damn_. He just keeps stacking all these things against me. I am so going to hell with the way I think about him.

“Why? Does that excite you or something?”

“No I’m completely nulled by my boyfriend going commando. What do you think jackass?”

“My little Frankie is picturing me naked isn’t he?” Gerard says in a singsong voice.

“Well I’m not picturing you fully clothed if that’s what you’re suggesting. Now pick a dare so we can make that less of a fantasy and more of a reality.”

“No, I think I’ll go with truth.”

I groan at his answer, “I hate you so much right now. Fine, what’s your weirdest turn on?”

“My weirdest? I don’t know I have a lot of strange ones,” he says thoughtfully.

“Like what?” I ask.

“Um, I don’t know. Han Solo, ice cream, oversized sweatshirts, lipstick, magic tricks-“

“Wait, what was that? Magic tricks?”

Gerard smiles again, and I can see him imagining something, “Well you’ve got to be damn good with your hands to pull off most magic tricks.”

I consider this, “Well maybe I’ll take a page out of Penn & Teller’s book then.”

“If you do then you will have me naked in under thirty seconds,” he says in all seriousness.

“I am going to take you up on that offer someday.”

“I’m sure you will, now it’s my turn to ask you.”

I nod and say, “Truth.”

“Okay, who was the _last_ person you jerked off to?”

“That’s practically the same question as before!” I protest.

“Well no because it’s different! And you always have the option of taking off an item of clothing, but it looks like you only have one piece left.”

“I’ll take the truth then,” I look down and scold my lack of clothes, though that’s not really my fault, “Okay, well it’s not that hard to figure out. Bit of an ego boost for you I’m sure, but-“

“Why Frank you dirty boy! Impure thoughts about me?” He pretends to be scandalized and stretches his fingers out to his chest to feign surprise.

“Well who else was it going to be?”

“Aw, you’re too kind. Back at ya loverboy.”

I wave his words away and continue, “Yeah yeah, you go. T or D?”

“Oh, I love the D.”

I snort at that but feel happy about his response, “You’re choosing dare?”

He nods, and I smile. So much power, but what do I do with it?

Let’s be honest here though, how many people out there _wouldn’t_ dare him to take his pants off in my situation? It is a golden opportunity! If I don’t take it... well then I might be straight.

Regardless of how obvious a dare it is, I totally make him do it. He stands up and walks over to stand right beside me, and sits down next to me, but not before he tugs his trousers off and throws them aside.

He hadn’t been lying. No underwear in sight.

And, shit, that seems to be a turn on for me, but it’s not as strange as getting excited by magic tricks.

“Happy now?” he asks and winks at me. I don’t need to answer that question because my damn body decides to do it for me.

“Never mind,” he adds, eyeing my crotch.

“Shut up.”

“I shan’t, it’s my turn to ask.”

“Dare,” I say without thinking.

“Well it’s only fair,” he grins, “off with the boxers Iero.”

“I don’t know, it’s kind of cold,” I joke, and he looks at me expectantly.

I’m not actually kidding about it being cold though, it’s freezing because it’s always a little colder in the house when it’s raining for some reason.

“Let’s get in bed then,” Gerard says, and he pulls me up onto my own bed, where I allow him to get under the covers while I tug my last article of clothing off. As always, we rock paper scissors to see who gets to be the little spoon, and I win so I allow him to wrap his arms around me. I feel him rest his head in my neck, so that his soft hair tickles at my skin, but I don’t mind because it’s so cozy being held by him. Gerard’s semi hard-on is poking into my back, but I don’t say anything, because there’s no way I’m protesting to that.

“You smell nice,” he mumbles into my neck.

“I try,” I answer, giggling, “truth or dare, Gee?”

“Mmmm,” he says thinking, “truth.”

“Tell me about the first time you realized you liked me,” I say.

I can feel him smile when he thinks about it and he starts even though he knows I know most of the story, “what is there to say? Mikey became friends with a kid in his grade and then he brought home said friend, who happened to be a sexy ass motherfucker. He had great taste in music and was sweet, and I just liked him instantly.”

“No but tell me how you felt,” I say.

“Um, I don’t know, the same way I do now I guess. Like I had a crush on someone who was unattainable and funny and perfect. He made me feel like such a dork every time I was around him because he was so intimidatingly sexy and hot. And I was always trying to get Mikey to talk me up to you, but he kept teasing me because he knew I liked you and you didn’t. I got all warm and fuzzy every time you talked to me, and I still do.”

“You’re so cheesy,” I joke.

“Yeah I know. Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” I answer.

“Okay, lemme think,” he says, “hey Frankie could you maybe turn around so I can look at you?”

I sigh but turn around anyway so that I’m only a few inches away from him, but close enough to feel his body heat radiating off him.

“Why do you want to look at me?” I scrunch my nose.

“Because I like your face,” He answers firmly, “okay, got one. Favorite physical thing about me?”

“Is it fair to say everything?” he shakes his head so I start listing things off rapidly because there’s so many amazing things about him, “fine, well then... your eyes, and your smile, and your neck, and your collarbone, and your fingers, and your hands in general really, and your messy hair, and your hipbones, and-“

“That’s enough! Seriously? All that?”

“I don’t kid around when it comes to how beautiful you are, Gee,” I answer trying to look dead serious, because I am.

“You’re just polite,” he says, but he’s smiling anyway.

“No actually I’m a bit of a douchebag, but what can I say? You bring out the best in me.”

“Kiss me,” he says.

“No it’s my turn Gerard,” I gloat evilly.

“Dare.”

“Okay, I’ll let you choose,” I say graciously.

“You sure about that?”

“Not even slightly,” I respond.

“Naw I’m just going to kiss you,” He says, but what he left out is the part where he climbs on top of me. He leans down to look at me which means his black locks fall in curtains around his forehead and it’s probably the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. What this means also, is that our erections both settle against each other which is eternally a beautiful feeling. He gently lowers his body over mine without pressing his weight onto me. 

It’s just a soft kiss at first, until he allows himself to fully relax on top of me which adds more weight, but he’s not all that heavy to begin with. His hair tickles my skin so that I have to brush it away from his face and this entails cupping his cheek in my hand.

Gerard has a singer’s mouth. This means he’s widely talented with using his lips and tongue. I, myself, have a guitarists fingers and I’ll let you figure out what that means on your own.

He moves his lips from mine and then starts to bite on my ear.

“It’s my turn to ask Frankie, Truth or dare?” He whispers in my ear, making me shiver.

“Dare,” I say, because there’s no way I could possibly answer a question in such a situation.

“Well it’s only fair that you and I have matching hickeys,” he says with a wink, and descends his mouth to my neck.

I’m not overly fond of the hickey getting process, because it’s kind of uncomfortable having someone suck at your neck for a few minutes, and it’s sort of stings, but I know how much Gerard loves them. I just like the little marks because they’re a reminder of how much I love him, but he finds them really sexy so I don’t mind it all that much. I run my hands through his hair and brush against his scalp the way I know he likes.

Despite my opinion of the process it’s still really nice and makes my whole body tingle. His hands run along the sides of my torso and each finger is like icy heat on my skin, in a good way. I accidentally let out a moan without meaning to and hear him giggle. I hadn’t intended to, but I challenge you to keep quiet while an insanely hot guy licks your neck, and you tell me how well you do.

My hand strokes down his side and then a bit lower and lower until his hand smacks my own.

“Hey, nuh-uh Frankie! You’ve gotta get a dare or something to do that.”

“Fine then, please pick dare,” I say wanting so badly to just touch him, or have him touch me, just anything.

He snarls devilishly and I know the answer before it even leaves his mouth, prompting me to send him a death glare.

“Truth.”

“Why are you such a sadist?”

“Is that your question?” He asks and I nod, wanting him to get done quickly so I can ask for a dare, “I guess it’s because I like seeing you squirm. It’s super sexy.”

“Is sexy the new word for needy?” I question.

“You’re not needy, you’re cute.”

I think about saying I’m both, but I don’t because I don’t want to come across even needier than I already am.

“Truth or-“

“Dare. I really need a dare right now.”

He chuckles and I hear a semblance of the words ‘horny’ and ‘bastard’ but my brain doesn’t really process them any further than that. The only words that seem to exist are his name, ‘fuck’ and, the ever amazing word, ‘pizza,’ because no matter how hard I try to forget about it, I always kind of want a slice.

“I dare you to show me what you were doing the last time you were _thinking_ about me.”

“ _Thinking?_ ” I repeat in the same manner that he’d said it.

“Thinking,” he nods.

I almost laugh at his expression. He’s so damn bad at trying to be sexy. He pulls off sexy with ease, but when he’s trying at it he just looks kind of angry.

Gerard climbs off of me and to my left but he keeps an eye trained on me to look for a response. I’m not backing down now though. This shit is going to happen and I am going to get him back for this. Just you wait, he is going to pay.

I know what he’s suggesting. He wants me to jerk off for him, and who am I to say no?

I don’t like the term masturbate, it sounds obscene, and I know I shouldn’t really care when I don’t voice the word in the first place, but I don’t even say that word in my head. There are just some words that make people cringe. Like moist, or phlegm, or lugubrious, or repugnant. I shiver just thinking about all the wretched sounding words and then shudder again when Gerard pulls the blanket down slightly.

He doesn’t pull it further than my chest, but I don’t like the way the cold air hits my skin.

“Cold?” he chuckles.

I’m not sure if he’s referring to my goose bumps or the fact that I actually physically shivered, but either way it’s a little embarrassing.

I tug the comforter down a little more, and then pull a second pillow underneath my head so I have a bit of an angle 

He places himself on his side near my head, and then stretches his arm out above him, and rests his head on the bridge between my shoulder and his own arm. His hair rests against my temple, and I know his eyes are focused unwaveringly on my lower half.

I’d be lying if I said the minute I touch myself isn’t filled with relief. It’s a bit like Atlas shrugging off the weight of the world on his shoulders, but it’s so much better. Obviously I’ve never tried to balance a planet on my back, but I presume it would feel something like blue balls, and getting rid of that weight would be equivalent to the relief of touching one’s self. 

I have really fucking weird similes.

It’s not like I’m overwhelmingly uncomfortable or anything, after all I do this all the time in this exact position in this exact spot, but there’s the added variable of having Gerard right there watching. I go ahead though and slide my hand up and down my own shaft. I hear him have trouble trying to snag a breath so I moan to try and tease him, and hopefully add more pressure to his horny little brain.

It works well, because I see his hand glide down his own body but I swipe it away the instant I see him do it.

“Not a chance Way. If I had to wait for a dare, you have to as well,” and that little line, ladies and gentleman, comes to you from my new book, ‘How to be a Sadist by Frank Iero.’

He groans with dismay and I wait a long while before he tells me to stop, and pleads with me to give him a dare. It’s odd but for some reason Gerard is way harder than me right now, and I feel a little better about this fact. I still want him to touch me though.

“I dare you to keep your hands off yourself for the rest of the game,” I say happily.

Gerard gives me the most loathing stare I have ever seen and with a cold tone he says, “You bitch.”

I smirk at the sentiment and bat my eyelashes at him innocently, “oh hon, I know you’re not stupid enough to think I was anything but that.”

“Truth or dare?” He asks through gritted teeth.

“I think truth.”

He sighs and falls back on my bed to look up at the ceiling so I lean on my shoulder to look down at him.

“Um pass,” he says.

“Pass? You can’t pass I forbid it,” I tell him.

“Ugh fine. How’s it feel knowing that I hate you so much right now.”

“The same way you felt when you kept denying me dares, jackass.”

He whimpers in response and I look at his face to see that he actually looks genuinely pained right now. Oh shit he’s doing the puppy dog eyes. The ones that mean nothing to me usually but those are the _bedroom_ puppy dog eyes. The ones issued specifically for the use of seducing me.

“Truth or,” I forget the other word because his eyes are like two crystal balls made out of chocolate. More like caramel really, but I’m not in the mood to describe his eyes on a technicality.

He fakes contemplation than says, “I’m going to go with dare.”

Oh that’s the other word. What does it mean, again? My mind has trouble finding the definition of dare but I’m quite sure it has nothing to do with collarbones. It seems that collarbone is the most prominent word in my mind, and the only one I’m capable of recollecting. Maybe V-line. I like V-lines. I can remember V-lines. Mmmmmm V-lines.

I realize I’m daydreaming and Gerard is looking at me like I’m the most whimsical thing he’s ever seen. I have a knack for relinquishing my dominance whenever it’s handed to me, because already I’ve lost control of my supremacy.

“Just whatever,” I say because those words seem to make a bit of sense next to each other. I might have said something so much more embarrassing so you have to give me credit. I’m also quite proud that both are actually words and not gurgling sounds.

“Whatever again? That’s a dangerous game you’re playing.”

I shrug and nod, hoping that’s the correct response to whatever Gerard said. I think I’ve put him on mute.

“Do you want me to suck you off, Frankie?” He asks innocently.

Okay those three words together mean what? I can’t remember anymore. Gerard’s... well his _everything_ has got me all muddled. I try to stop thinking about his eyes because they’re super distracting, but then I realize I just love every goddamn part of him. 

What were those three word again? Suck, and ohhhhhhh.

I nod vigorously. God, I must look like an idiot, or a bobble head. 

I am game for what Gerard submitted though.

“You do?” He asks again looking at me for confirmation. Where the hell is the question in that? Does he think I’m going to say no? 

My heart has either stopped beating or has been rerouted, because there is no blood whatsoever in my brain. I would tell you where it is, but come on who are we kidding? You know, I know, even Jesus himself knows.

I don’t open my mouth in response because I really don’t want to end up saying something like, ‘fumph,’ which I am likely to do at this point.

“Is that what you want Frankie?”

I nod again, but Gerard is still pretending to be blissfully innocent. That boy is anything but innocent, I can promise you that.

“You’re going to have to dare me Frank otherwise I won’t know what you want.”

I am definitely going to murder him someday, but I have to try and form words to tell him what to do. What are the words I need?

Finding the right words is like taking a geometry test. There’s no freaking way I’m going to be able to do this and I’m pretty sure half of it is completely made up.

“Frank?”

“I dare you,” good job, three syllables, “to...?”

“Yes?”

There’s only a few more words to vocalize, “dare ya to suck me off?”

“Is that a question or an instruction?”

Instruction has a lot of syllables, but I’m going to for it, “instruntion.” Well I tried. Gold star for effort.

He smiles at me looking pleased with my incoherency, “I can do that.”

A minute later there’s a not so subtle pulling apart of my legs, and Gerard grabs my cock making me squeak unflatteringly. He makes eye contact with me and his eyes ask me for permission which I grant gladly, and then my head falls back. My head is heavier than an elephant driving a tank engine with a swimming pool tied to the back.

I can’t keep my eyes open either, and that’s an instinct that I’ve been trying to rectify for a while, but to no avail. I just settle for strengthening that one sense of touch right now.

I feel his fingers trail down my thighs and it tickles slightly, but I don’t laugh because I’m more fixated on the other sensation of his hand around my cock. I’m aware of his breath on my skin near my naval as well, but other than that I don’t know what the hell is going on. It’s like I’ve gotten lost. I always get lost with Gerard.

It’s a second later when his tongue slides across the slit of my erection and I let out another unattractive yelp. I really don’t care though. His tongue spins around the head, and I’m not even trying to keep quiet anymore. 

I’m not really as symphonious as Gerard, but I am a lot more persistent. I’m a noisy guy at the worst of times, you don’t even want to get me started about how loud I can be at the best.

I’m sure the feeling of his mouth around me is much longer than a few seconds, and probably upwards of a few minutes, but it feels like he stops just a moment later which makes me feel very alone all of a sudden. I hear a comical pop as his jaw removes itself from my cock so I open my eyes to see him looking proudly down at me. 

“Hearing you moan my name is like listening to an orchestra,” he whispers.

“Gerard,” I lament.

“And I’ve never liked my own name until I heard you say it.”

“Gerard,” I reprise. 

“Oh man I love you,” he exhales.

“I love you too.”

He beams at me with that billion dollar smile. Yes it is a billion not a million dollars, I’m not going to be stingy on something as perfect as that. The lips that comprise that smile are like two perfect drops of pink starlight. They’re slightly swollen at the moment which just makes them puffier and more kissable. I just want to get him to kiss me with those lips right now and forever. A few times, wherever he wants to, as long as it’s him and me.

I don’t have to wait long because he kisses me quickly after I reply, with his hand still gripping around my hard-on. I feel intoxicated by his presence, as if I’m about to burst from a surplus of emotions.

“Truth or dare?” he mumbles into my mouth. I’m not actually sure if that’s what he said but I hear a noise spoken into my mouth that sounds a bit like that.

“Dare,” I reply.

He pulls away and looks at me imploringly while saying, “Fuck me.”

I nod but I’m not sure why, it just feels like the right thing to do. Gerard’s stooping in front of me with his knees around my hips, and his hands have now moved themselves to the frames of my shoulder.

Gerard reaches for my hand and takes it in his own. I don’t question him because he’s the boss right now. He takes my hand and brings three fingers to his mouth. I allow him to suck on my fingers, feeling his warmth around them and trying to absorb this moment. He’s really beautiful when he looks like this. Kind of desperate and also excited.

When Gerard looks confident that my fingers are slick enough he collapses down onto me carefully, nudging his head into my neck, which is one of my favorite feelings in the world. The feeling of him snuggling into the crook of my neck is so comfy. I can feel his eyelashes on my skin, and they blink a few times before he closes his eyes completely, and I suspect he’s biting his lip the cute way he does when he’s trying to concentrate or memorize a moment. He memorizes moments the same way some people take photographs or the way you screenshot your computer. I’m not sure where he stores these moments, but I like to imagine that Gerard has a file cabinet in his brain labeled ‘cutesy stuffs wif Fwankie.’

I take one of my fingers and gently prod his hole, not wanting to rush. He gives a very small nod, which I wouldn’t have noticed had I not been looking for it, so I carefully push in a little further to see him wince. I kiss the top of his head so that he knows I’m not trying to make him feel pain. The last thing I want to do is hurt him.

It’s not like this is exactly a habitual thing for me but I’ve done it enough times to know how to scissor Gerard open. What can I say, I’m observant and a fast learner. His entire body is warm and soothing against me, especially his light breaths onto my chest.

His hand, which is gripped around me shoulder, digs into the flesh and leaves little crescent moon shaped marks but his nails aren’t long enough to draw blood, nor is he strong enough.

“You okay?” I ask him before I insert my third finger. He doesn’t reply but nods so I add the last one and prep him until I’m sure he’s okay.

His eyelashes flutter against my skin again so I know his eyes are open, he makes a sound, a bit like a huff, but it’s faint enough that I’m not sure how to describe it.

“Truth or dare?” I ask him, not sure why I’m still using that charade.

“Dare,” he says with a snort, and he muffles a laugh into my chest.

I whisper into his ear and try to make my voice as sensual as I can, “ride me.”

He lifts his head, his hair sticking up everywhere, and he whispers back in the same sultry tone, “gladly.”

Gerard pulls himself up off of me but never breaks eye contact, so that I watch him straddle my waist carefully and then left himself onto his knees the best he can. I pull the pillow under my neck forward so that my angle is better, and then place a hand on his hip to help keep his balance.

He bites his lip making the pink skin turn a pale white when it makes contact with the edge of his coffee stained teeth.

At this point I don’t really have much control because of the position I’m in, so I watch his face devotedly.

He grabs my cock and holds me in place though I’m not likely to move right now. He really doesn’t have much trouble lowering himself down onto me.

For a moment I wish I could savor this image and take a photo of him to put in my own little filing cabinet for the rest of eternity and if I could do so would never ask for anything ever again. There are so many beautiful aspects about it, but the second Gerard lowers himself on my erection, he makes the most tantalizing sound I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard that boy sing. For all intents and purposes it’s an, ‘oh,’ sound backed by a large rationale of lurching breath. It’s got a twang of that girly little ardency that I’ve always loved about his voice.

Gerard’s face looks lost in ecstasy, and his bottom lip gets tugged aggressively, because his mouth tries to decide whether to open or to keep biting down. His eyelids fasten together gently, and I suspect his eyes roll back into his head as well.

For a moment the entire universe falls into darkness because all I can do is look at this beautiful person on top of me. For this second I see him at his most vulnerable, and it’s gratifying to know that _I’m_ the one who put such a beautiful expression on such a deserving face. It’s only a few seconds before he recovers himself quickly but not before my heart melts.

“Fuck,” he sighs, and I match his gush.

I kind of have trouble piecing together any other words so I just allow Gerard’s to fall into my mouth so that I echo him. He steadily sinks down on my shaft and I regret to admit that I moan like a dirty whore. Like I said, I’m a loud little guy, because my volume is compressed into my tiny little body.

Gerard has to work the muscles in his legs overdrive, because they’re probably feeling a little wobbly as it is, so I put my other hand on his waist to steady him, while he glides back down. 

The marvelous thing about this position is that he manages to find his own prostate almost instantly and I get to witness the beautiful moaning he makes as that point is reached. Let’s just put it this way, I am not the only one with a moan worthy of a five star porno.

After a few moments Gerard manages to pick up his pace even though his legs must be killing him, so I help him by thrusting my hips upwards which causes a series of raucous moans from him. His face is twisted in ecstasy. I can’t really tell him what to do and he has no need to provide commands to me, so we both use a mixture of swears and each other’s names. All I can do to keep myself from letting go already is remind myself to try and maintain my pride.

I eye the part where our two bodies connect and watch my cock disappear into Gerard’s body. The feeling not only makes me quiver inside him, but also makes my whole body tremble. The feeling in my stomach is incomparable, but it’s magical to say the least.

“Frankie I’m-,“ he tries to say something, but he has trouble because his breathing is heavy and gets in the way. I get the message anyway, having started to understand his abbreviated memos after we’d gotten used to each other. I’m still not really used to the way Gerard makes me feel though, and I hope never to be, because it makes every time feels like the first, only less awkward and more pleasurable. A little rougher as well.

Gerard somehow manages to remember that I’d dared him not to touch himself, which is something I even forgot so he grabs my hand and brings it to his length for me. My back doesn’t bend the way I want it to so I have to awkwardly pump him from an odd distance, but it does the trick.

I always know when he’s about to cum because his face gives it away. It’s just one moment where he looks almost scared or nervous, but it’s then followed by a face that might as well be the definition of orgasm. The urban dictionary definition because it’s not a sight for young eyes. It’s definitely an awe-inspiring face though.

Anyway, that face slinks onto his face, but I don’t stop thrusting into him, nor do I remove my hand from around his hard-on so that his cum spills onto my hand and onto my stomach as well. It’s warm and sometimes I think it’s kind of gross but I’m lost in the moment so I barely process it, because I’m getting incredibly close, judging by the tugging feeling in my stomach.

A fiery sensation, followed by a breathless gasp, leads me into my release inside of him, and I get punched in the face with a feeling like static. It’s like the snow storm you get from a cable box when the TV isn’t working, and that’s my brain right now. Nothing and no one in the world exists apart from Gerard and myself. I forget my own name though, remembering only one word, and that word is the one I shout out at the sensation of my climax.

“Gerard!”

I can feel my body, but I’m not sure about the metacognition at the moment so I decide not to try and move any of my limbs until I can at least open my eyes. Proprioception has never been my strong suit as I have been known to repeatedly miss my mouth with a spoon.

Gerard’s looking up at the ceiling still when I finally unlock my eyelids. Apparently he’s recovering even slower than me, so I ogle him for a few seconds until he looks down at me looking shell-shocked.

My eyes have tinted the world into an odd shade of blue that I have to blink a few times to get rid of before I can zoom in on Gerard who looks a bit overwhelmed.

There’s a slight buzzing in my ears that I try to shake away but I feel drunk off the pleasure, and it only makes me a bit dizzy.

At that Gerard falls on the bed beside me looking like he’s just run a marathon, with sweat coating his body, accompanied by sporadic wheezing, and I breathily giggle at him. He’s trying to catch his breath, though it’s coming in loud, stretched out intervals. I watch him as his chest rises and falls to try and absorb more air into his lungs. I restore my oxygen intake much quicker than him, but he eventually catches up and his breaths match mine perfectly, almost as if we rehearsed.

“And you didn’t want to play truth or dare,” Gerard laughs.

“I could’ve done without the buildup, thank you very much,” I answer curtly, but even _I’m_ not one to pretend that it wasn’t a great game.

“Still, as far as spring break’s go,” he shrugs, “I think this will be a pretty good one.”

“We’ve only got four days left,” I remind him, “and we’ve already let four days go by.”

“Well that just means we have a few days to make up for,” His eyes glint when he says that and my body shivers at the insinuation.

“Ready when you are, Gee.”

I guess there _are_ something’s you can do on a day off that are better than nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you liked it.
> 
> And [here's](http://25.media.tumblr.com/3d052b2aa36d5f619a49dbc76354d635/tumblr_n1dff0HlTC1s4yu2wo1_250.gif) a gif(t) for reading.


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